


The Thought Of Pizza Day

by waferkya



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Are you fat yet?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thought Of Pizza Day

“Are you fat yet?”

Chori giggles, and you are a man who’s very, very used at being far away from your loved ones, it’s top on the list of your job’s requirement, it comes before dribbling skills and impeccable fitness and the necessity to give up your free will and put your life in the hands of your manager, regardless of their sanity; so this is not unfamiliar, and you’re a professional and you absolutely know how to deal with distance but Christ, the fucker _giggles_ and suddenly, you have no idea what to do with your hands.

“Why would I be fat,” Chori wonders, sounding amused. You try to swallow but your mouth is a desert and you’re surprised when you don’t taste sand.

“Because of all the pizza, you know,” you mumble lamely. It sounded better—funnier, smarter, more meaningful—in your head. Everything always does with you.

Chori’s laugh is full and throaty now and you should hang up and never call again, but you don’t.

“You are so awful and mean,” he says; you know he’s shaking his big head and you miss him and it feels like sin. It shouldn’t, because people are allowed to miss their best friend when their best friend has just moved to another country and won’t be back home for ten months or so; but really, you’re not even trying to kid yourself anymore, you’re a shitty liar and it’s too exhausting.

It’s not your best friend you miss and it’s not your roommate and it’s nothing nice and platonic and, yeah, you’re the worst shit in the world because your wife is perfect and you’re pining over a guy who didn’t know that Austria and Australia are different places.

_He knows now_ , you tell yourself to try and stitch together a shred of dignity or something.

Chori sighs in your ear. “Pizza’s good, though. Like, steak-good.”

You blink away every thought you’ve ever had, because now, _that_ doesn’t make any sense and it sounds remarkably like blasphemy.

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, really. It’s different here, well we’ve only had it once but it was enough to tell—it’s, like, so much better than TelePizza. Even Domino’s!”

Normally, you would jump at the chance to defend TelePizza’s honor against all that wish to harm your second-favourite fast-food chain, but you’re kind of stuck at how Chori just said _we_ —meaning him, probably Calleti, certainly Pepe and, most importantly, Pipita.

You bite your lip hard enough to hurt yourself, because that’s just how much of a complete moron you are.

“Yeah?” you mumble, your voice cracking. “You’re gonna have to show me.”

“Of course! We—the team I mean—we have this friendly later tomorrow and then we’re all going out to have pizza and the captain promised to show me all the bestest places in town, so of course I’ll show you.”

You force out the ghost of a laugh and you just hope the phone and the Mediterranean Sea inbetween the two of you swallowed the bitterness out of it; “All I have to do is come down there, then.”

“Yup,” Chori says, lightly—then after a second he adds, and Jesus Christ you’re so fucked because you can hear the grin in his voice—“But you’d come anyway, pizza or not.”

You can’t even deny it, that’s how bad you have it.

You rub your hand over your face, noticing Sergio Malfoy in the distance who’s waving you to come over _because training is starting, asshole_ ; you should let Chori go, and you hold on even tighter.

“You know, I don’t even care if you actually get fat,” you say. He giggles again, full-on twelve-year-old-schoolgirl mode, and you know that’s because he likes the way you say _fat_. “As long as you fit through the door at my house.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t get _that_ big,” he promises, and you believe that’s as good as any _yes, I do_.  



End file.
